


121,000 meters high

by Little Giant (Destini)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flight Attendants, Flight Attendant!Hinata, HoshiHinaWeek 2020, M/M, Pining, Sports Consultant!Hoshiumi, they don't get drunk though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Little%20Giant
Summary: Day 3 #HoshiHinaWeek: [Honeymoon or Road Trips/Flowers and Tattoos]There’s something nostalgic about the affair, being rushed into economy class and being adamant about not needing help to lift his suitcase to the top bins. He supposes he’s too old and a little taller now, less and less flight attendants ask him.Exceptthatone.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Kudos: 23





	121,000 meters high

There’s no time zone to adjust to, Hoshiumi thinks. He doesn’t know if the thought is just another in a long series of mid-air crises he tends to fathom at 121,000 meters high, or if time is a man-made invention meant to screw him over on his constant work-related travels.

He checks his watch that claims it’s Sunday, 11pm. Hoshiumi looks out the window and sees a blazing yellow sun, a marshmallow sea, and an ocean he can’t tell from the sky. He decides time doesn’t exist and falls into a comfortable sleep, stress-free.

When he wakes up, his local watch says it’s Monday, 7am. The first-class cabin is dark, low lights and distant coughing the only indication he’s not abandoned on the plane. It’s eerily quiet, but Hoshiumi finds comfort in it. For at least a while, he can pretend he’s in a dream where he doesn’t need to be dragged into the chaos of adjusting to another time zone and instructing (judging) another sports team.

The dream lulls him out of his chair, a cloud all on its own, and he shuffles in a haze down the aisles. He pauses at the bathroom, wondering if that’s the reason he got up. He peeks through the curtains that separate him from the rest of the plane – most people are sleeping, squeezed next to someone unfamiliar, while some are watching television, and others are typing away on laptops.

There’s something nostalgic about the affair, being rushed into economy class and being adamant about not needing help to lift his suitcase to the top bins. He supposes he’s too old and a little taller now, less and less flight attendants ask him.

Except _that_ one.

Hoshiumi startles when his name is whispered with a slight blow against his ear. As if caught, he backs from the curtains and stands straight.

“You-!”

“Sssh,” Hinata whispers, a teasing grin on his face. He seems to always have one, even when he’s being the most polite and calm and courteous and _professional_ version of himself (in fact, he’s certain Hinata has never been nervous a day in his life). Hoshiumi knows what that version is like through frustrated observation. He’s watched Hinata and his sharp orange hair and sharp gray suits on dozens of flights to know he’s being treated differently.

“Can’t sleep?” he whispers again.

Hoshiumi doesn’t know how to answer that – he’s still dreaming. And he doesn’t know how to not be loud.

Hinata seems to understand, placing a careful hand on his wrist and nodding to walk in the other direction. There’s no real grip on him, but Hoshiumi follows in a stutter as if there is.

In the front of first class there’s plenty of space, once again hidden by curtains, the pilot’s front cabin on the other side shut tightly by heavy doors. Hinata pats the seat that he must’ve been sitting in earlier, but Hoshiumi doesn’t take it, not until Hinata giggles and lightly pushes him down.

It’s still warm.

“Can I make you a hot drink? Or maybe a little wine helps you sleep?”

He’s still whispering, but Hoshiumi can hear everything. He attempts to fathom a thought, then an answer, then a way to say it.

“Nothing helps.”

Not that great a response, he decides. Maybe a 3 out of 10. He wishes he could stop judging everything he does, he’s not on the clock and he’s not winning any points.

Hinata hums, looking him over as he opens up the fridge. “I see. Hm… then, will you humor my suggestion?”

“Sure.” He says it automatically. Hinata likes to experiment with him, and he’s never been wrong. Maybe with other people, but never with him. Then again, does he ever experiment with anyone else? Hinata is so weird.

“Okay, one moment.”

He pulls out a wine glass, but doesn’t fill it quite yet. Hoshiumi watches him heat a separate glass of milk, a serene smile on his face the whole time that he can’t quite understand. Hinata must really love his job to be this comfortable. Part of him hopes that it’s _him_ Hinata’s comfortable with, because then the feeling would be mutual. And then, with a slight frown, he knows a part of him hopes Hinata’s uncomfortable with it all – he hopes Hinata wants to leave the airport with him, wants to get in his company-paid expensive rental, wants to take off that sharp suit and trade it for soft jersey, wants to touch his hand and touch the wind from an open window, wants his feet planted on beach instead of bumpy air aisles, wants to forget these temporary dives in the sky and fill his head with memories in a never-ending road trip around the world.

He zones out when Hinata measures different liquors, all the bottles looking indistinguishable from each other, the wait somehow more tiring than being in his comfortable plush seat. He feels like he’s taken a journey to his destination several times over.

“Hoshiumi-san, here.”

Hoshiumi jolts and opens his hands to take the glass, a mix of cream that looks like egg whites, brown that looks like caramel, and black that looks like liquid shadows. It’s appetizing in its own strange way.

And it’s warm.

“It’s my take on a White Russian,” Hinata explains, eyes still managing to catch the limited light of the low ceiling to make himself sparkle. Distractingly and hauntingly beautiful, hovering over him like the ghost of a lover who hasn’t lost all their colors yet.

“Hm, all right.”

Hoshiumi takes a long sip, makes sure the warmth of the different flavors fills his mouth before he swallows it.

It’s like a dream, tasty enough to make sure he wants to keep sleeping but burning his throat in a way that forces him awake regardless.

“Ah – wow,” he chokes.

“You don’t like it?” Hinata frowns, reaching to take the glass back. Hoshiumi moves it away, shaking his head until he can speak again. “No, it’s just strong. I like it. I like it a lot, thanks.”

Hinata exhales and puts two proud hands on his waist. “Good. I figured since you like sweet things, I’d up the cream and I figure plenty of warm milk will help you sleep.”

“Thanks…”

He tilts his head from the admittedly lackluster response, seeing too much now that Hoshiumi is awake and feeling. “But?” Hinata asks.

Hoshiumi feels every bump of turbulence now, sees the pretty way Hinata pouts. “I guess I feel more awake than ever.”

“Oh…”

Hoshiumi finds himself grinning at Hinata’s clear, childish disappointment. “But the drink is worth it.”

“You flatterer.”

“Yeah. Um. Can I stay here to finish it?”

Hinata nods as he turns to put away the different ingredients. “Of course, sir.”

Kind. There are plenty of things he doesn’t know about Hinata – if he teases him because he enjoys his reactions, if he wants to change jobs or routes soon, and if he enjoys Hoshiumi’s company as much as he does his. But there are many things he _does_ know – that he tilts his head when he’s concentrated, that he knows far more than a casual amount about international sports teams, and that he thinks Hoshiumi’s hands are pretty.

“But where will you sit if I do?”

Hinata pauses at the fridge. Hoshiumi’s watch says it’s Monday, 7:25am. The only indication he’s not completely alone is the quiet hum of a happy Hinata in front of him. Hoshiumi wonders and wonders.

“Hm. I don’t mind standing, unless I sit on your lap.” Hinata shoots a teasing grin over his shoulder at Hoshiumi, who thinks maybe – perhaps – he _is_ dreaming again.

“Okay.”

Hinata shuts the fridge door and blinks over at him. “Huh?”

His confusion doesn’t deter Hoshiumi as much as it should. Maybe it was a joke, or maybe it was one of those not-joke jokes meant to screw him over on social interactions if he doesn’t respond suave enough.

He checks Hinata’s face and sees the slight blush there, a pink dusted with the solemn, yellow lights of the cabin. Hinata’s not so much a beautiful ghost as he is a glowing angel. Hoshiumi decides it’s the latter kind of joke and this is as suave as he can get.

“I said… okay.”

There are still so many things he doesn’t know about Hinata, but Hoshiumi takes comfort and pride in knowing he can make him nervous.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter post of this fic!](https://twitter.com/OfLittleGiants/status/1301597926720929792?s=20)
> 
> Road trips in the LOOSEST interpretation of the word... any excuse to get these two nerds in the air. Honestly?? Hinata in a uniform, Hoshiumi in a suit. IMAGINE IT... TWO PEOPLE LIVING ALTERNATE VERSIONS OF THE SAME, ORIGINAL DREAM.. WHAT IS MORE FATEFUL THAN THAT... THEY ARE GAY..


End file.
